Fiery Ice
by meerkatalex
Summary: Violet encounters an old villain from the past. Her death seems inevitable, but what will happen when her kidnapper starts feeling for her? Can flames and ice really exist together without melting? Abandoned. Inbox me if you have any ideas. Sorry!
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Critisism appreciated! This is my first Synlet fic and my first ever on this website, tell me what you think! Rated M for later chapters.

It had been almost four years… Four years, and all he had to show for those forty-eight months, those one thousand four hundred and sixty-one days, was the small glass phial filled with a black liquid which he now held in his hand. Of course, added to the new lair he had, and all of his research… Well, he shook his head ruefully, breaking out of his thoughts as the watch on his wrist beeped. He continued on the short walk down to the small café on the corner, presented to the rest of the world as a young man who was walking down the road without a care in the world.

He entered the café and the bell greeted him with a tuneful tinkle. He nodded to the waitress that passed him and looked around. The café, as always, was full, and as he seated himself on the tiny table in the far right-hand corner, he removed the _reserved _sign and placed it on the seat beside him. A waitress approached him, not noticing anything amiss and he placed a small order, before turning his attention to his general appearance. His hair was ruffled and messy, as if he had spent hours running his fingers through it in distress, and the heavy bags under his eyes gave the impression he was recovering from an illness, or grieving. He nodded to himself in satisfaction and proceeded with his plan.

()()()()()()

Violet's usual routine did not go to plan. She was late, and she hated that. More so, when she entered the café that she had been going to for the past three months, she found her usual table occupied. After a quick word with Anna-Marie, the waitress, Violet walked over to her table, sitting opposite the man who occupied it. He was stirring a cup of tea, and did not stop doing so until Violet cleared her throat. He looked up, and Violet saw startled apprehension in his green eyes that she was sure she must mirror; well, maybe not the surprise, but she found herself confronting someone she had never seen or spoken too in her life… And this made her uncomfortable.

"Hi." He thought it started very well as she had said something first. No wonder; he probably looked like he wanted to drown himself in the cup of tea that he had stirred endlessly.

"Hello," he raised his eyes bashfully and glanced back down at the lukewarm tea that filled his cup. Violet regarded him warily, eyebrows slightly raised. After so many years of being a Super, she finally knew what it was like to always have to be cautious, to exercise curiosity with caution - one of her mom's favourite sayings.

"I'm Rose." she borrowed a name from the flower family, as she did with everyone she met. It wasn't too hard to fit into this new persona - other names she adapted well to and acted them out as if they were real. Rose was one of her confident, cheeky personas, flirty and confident. Not at all like her usual image. She leant forward, smiling with practiced ease, hitching down her top to reveal a small amount of cleavage. She hated doing this, but maybe it wouldf get rid of him - as much as she knew that he was probably a self-pitying man in depression, she knew she mustn't ever let her guard down. She'd been attacked by some villains just a week before, and although she didn't not like being attacked, she had to admit it wasn't something she wanted to put herself at risk of. In order to hide her identity entirely, she'd dyed her hair blonde and taken to wearing jeans and different coloured tops, to shake off the image of 'Incredigirl', the image that portrayed her as a sullen, dark teenager with a Gothic attitude. Of course, Violet wasn't gothic, but her naturally glossy black hair that fell across her face persistently and the black clothes didn't help. By hiding behind a fake identiity and appearence, she appaered to be just a happy-go-lucky girl with a zest for living.

"Have I seen you around here before?" she rested her chin on her hand and smiled widely, flicking her dyed hair behind her shoulder. His eyes watched it for a moment before he continued staring at his tea.

"No," his voice was barely audible and Violet immediatly labelled him as the bookish, quiet type. Probably visiting an elderly relative and bored out of his mind, she thought sympathetically.

"I've travelled out of town for a bit, to visit my grandma."

"Spot on," Violet thought to herself, smiling that bit wider and leaning forard a bit more. "She's so vulnerable living here by herself, and I'm the only family she's got left." Despite wanting to be rid of this man, Violet found herself sympathising with him - always worrying about his family, wanting freedom but not having any. She leant forward and patted his hand, leaning across the table so that their eyes met.

"I'm sure you'll be fine - maybe I'll see you around sometime and we can hook up?" she felt herself smile as he stammered and rose from the table.

"N- no th- thanks," he backed away as if she was contagous; exactly what she had hoped for.

"I need to get going anyway - see you." and he dashed off, tripping in his haste. Violet took a sip of her drink, smiling now. Boys of that type were so predicatbale, and easy to manipulate. She gulped down the cool, refreshing water, draining it to the last drop, and Anna-Marie grinned as she approached the table.

"Fetching up with that young man are we Rose?" Violet laughed softly and flicked her hair back again.

"No, he's not really my type," she lied smoothly, surprising herself when she realised she wasn't lying, "He seemed quite shy, bless him."

"Yeah, well, he's always been like that. He's been nipping in every few days for a while now - the poor boy's lonely, I suppose." The waitress gathered up the teacup and Violet's empty glass and strolled off, humming to herself. The Spring weather had everyone in a good mood - even Violet's family, who she had gotten a postcard from last week, sounded cheerful. She allowed herself a small smile as she thought about the family - she hadn't seen them for what seemed like ages now, since she had started travvelling around Europe, butshe enjoyed what individuality she had for the time being. A visit was due soon and although she felt better at the prospect of seeing her mom and dad, Dash wasn't particularly appealing.

No, she corrected herself. He'd grown up, no longer being infantile and annoying. She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking abou them. After ordering a plate of pancakes and syrup; with blueberries of course, she paid and sauntered off down the street, smiling and nodding to passers-by. They all regarded her as if she was demented, and this made her laugh inside. Yes, she enjoyed the Spring. It made her feel - blackness overwhelmed her as she stepped out in the road, and she lost conciousness just as she felt a pair of strong arms envelope her in a firm hold.

Author's note: Yes, I know it's a bit slow and tedious, but the next chapter will be the meeting of Violet and an old arch-nemisis. I'm sure you all know who it'll be, but I won't say for those who don't. Fluff and questioning oneself will evolve in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't know how long she had been out cold, but it was suffice to say she'd collected enough information to recognise the fact that she couldn't escape. She was in a small room; it was coated with some of the strongest materials ever made, and the floor was slippery enough so that her legs flew out in all directions like Bambi on ice when she tried to stand. She was chained to the walls, both wrists above her head. And she was still in the clothes that she wore when this had happened. She had deduced enough information to come to the conclusion that she'd been abducted, or, as her mum would say, kidnapped. "And the person who did it was very efficient indeed," she thought to herself as she tried to use her powers and failed.

()()()()()()()()

It was some time later when the door of the cell opened, and Violet kept her eyes to the ground, hoping that her identity would be protected by the shiny blonde hair which cascaded around her face like a waterfall. The footsteps echoed around the room as the individual approached her, and her hair was pulled, forcing her to look into the eyes of the blonde man she had sat opposite to in the cafe.

"You!" she gasped, struggling away from his fist which held her hair tight. "What do you want with me? Money?" The man grinned; he had very white, even, teeth, and he looked somewhat familiar, as if he were an old friend from her past. The green eyes surveyed her with interest and he dropped her hair, allowing her chin to rest back on her neck.

"Funny you don't recognise me, really." he raised his fingertips and to her amazement, removed contact lenses from his eyes. He tucked them into his pocket and looked up, his eyes now a bright, baby blue. His skin was pale and he had a light dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose.

Violet shook her head slowly, not believing what she was seeing. The man sighed, an over-theatrical sigh, designed to annoy her. He turned and walked out of the room, not even turning round as he said:

"I'll give you another clue, shall I?" he returned in no less than ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but this time, his hair was a flaming red, fiery orange, wet from the shower he had just taken. He threw the dye-streaked towel on the floor and walked towards her again, leering.

"Remember me now?" And she did. She focused on him with her large, violet eyes, and rage built up inside her. He was smiling again, and how she hated it. Without considering the consequences of her actions, she swung up her right leg and aimed a swift and deadly kick at his temple. But he caught it, albeit very closely to his face, but he grabbed her leg, and twisted it sharply, making her cry out.

"If you think - " his voice was dripping with cruel menace as she gasped in pain, "That five 'Incredible' Supers are enough to kill me, you're wrong!" He dropped her leg and then began to undo the chains around her wrists.

"Don't try to escape," his voice was now dry and bored, his face hard to read, "It'll only hurt you." he clamped a silver bracelet around her wrist and it beeped, blue lights flashing up around the band.

"If you try to use your powers, this will hurt you. If you try to go through any of the doors except your assigned room, this will hurt you. If you attempt to hurt me, it will hurt you. Do we understand one another?" She rose her chin defiantly and didn't answer, then received a blow to her right cheek, cutting it.

"Do we understand one another?" he hissed as she raised a hand to feel the warm, wet blood which dripped down her cheek. She murmured 'yes' this time, not meeting his eyes, and as he turned away from her, towards the door, he heard a gasp of pain as she fell to the floor.

"Funny, as a Super you'd think you'd be able to keep on your feet. Follow me." he turned away for the third time, and had taken two steps before she crashed to the floor again. Sighing, he turned back and pulled her to her feet with one arm, the very same which had stopped her falling before she had lost consciousness.

"Come on, Parr. I haven't got all day. Lives to destroy, cities to wreck - you know the drill." He held her steady until they left the room, and then he let go; the floors outside weren't as slippery but reminded Violet of tiles that covered kitchen and bathroom floors. The steady drip of blood from her cheek was staining her t-shirt, and she glanced at Syndrome's hand. He wore a metal contraption around his arm which extended to just below his elbow, and small lines in it hinted to her that it had many hidden gadgets, and that was what had cut her. She winced and wiped her sleeve on her face, blotting the blood.

The Super followed the villain down one main corridor which was straight and a pure white; doors were on the left and right of her, all of them shut. Eventually, at the end of the corridor, there was one door which lay open, displaying a bed, small closet, desk and chair. Syndrome stopped and turned to face her, and Violet saw a flicker of unease across his face as the blood dripped steadily from the cut on her face.

"I'll - " he swallowed and suddenly began to glare again; the change in his expression was shocking as he took her arm and pushed her towards her room.

"This is my room." he pointed to the door on her left, "And that's yours. My plan is foolproof, and there is no way to escape this place. I've tried all ways and it's completely impossible - unless you know the codes to get out and can remove that bracelet - which only I know how. Your dinner will be brought to you. Don't go in any other rooms except your own - there is an adjoining bathroom to yours where you can clean up that cut. Do not disturb me unless it is important." He turned away and opened his door a fraction of an inch.

"And remember - " she looked up, hopelessness in her eyes, "I hate you."

"Back at you." she spat back, slamming her door on his face. As she turned into the room which now held her prisoner, she sighed and allowed her hair to swing into her face as she looked at the floor. It was those slippery tiles again; she slipped off her shoes and socks to get a firmer grip on the floor's surface and took two hesitant steps into the room. Certain that she wouldn't fall over, she shed herself of her outer clothing, standing in only her super-suit, and made her way to the bathroom. It was well supplied and she frowned at the thought that had gone into the room - there was even a hairbrush and small pile of hair bobbles and hairgrips on the shelf above the sink.

Her brow knitted in confusion as she surveyed the scene - if Syndrome hated her so much, and wanted revenge on her family, why had he given her a room - _two rooms _- like this, fully equipped with almost everything she could need? She shrugged and removed her super-suit before stepping under the shower, allowing the water to run down her back and hair, removing most of the blonde dye that she hated so much. She then realised, with a jolt, that Syndrome had had the same blonde hair as his disguise - who would've thought that they thought so alike, but she hadn't recognised him?

Author's Note: Sorry about the non-existence of fluff or romance in this chapter, but Syndrome (or Buddy) is trying to maintain his act of 'I hate everyone' persona - hence his comment about hating Violet. By saying that he hates her, he's trying to reinforce the image of him as a villian, as she remembers him. Buddy's changed a lot over the past years and he's trying to deny to himself that he likes any's company, especially one of his former enemy's daughter.

And yes, it's been four years since Syndrome 'died' and I guess that Violet was thirteen/fourteen which would make her seventeen or eighteen now, and I think Buddy's nine years older than Violet. Now that their ages are clued up, I promise to have another chapter for you within two days which _**will **_include fluff and some uncertainty on their emotions towards each other on both Violet's and Buddy's part.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: So this is the chapter you've all been waiting for! (I hope.) This chapter will see Violet and Buddy actually sharing a few glances, a few touches, and Violet begins to wonder why Buddy's holding her hostage, and for how long. On with the chapter!

He'd given her the night and half the morning, and now it was time to put phase one of his plan into action. Buddy paced his room, waiting for the clock on his nightstand to show midday. He hadn't bothered to dress in his super-suit - rather, he'd pulled out a suit and donned that instead, putting across the appearance of a successful businessman. He hadn't bothered checking in on the Parr girl, either. She could try to escape; she wouldn't find one, even with those powers of hers. Force fields and invisibility wouldn't help her more than breaking through walls would. They were well plated, well built, and strong - even Mr Incredible wouldn't be able to get through them.

He stood and opened his door, closing it behind him with a finality, before he approached the door that was now Violet Parr's. He didn't knock, and let himself in. The room was orderly and silent. The bedcovers were neat, as if she was staying overnight in a hotel, and the clothes she had worn yesterday were folded and put neatly in the bottom of the empty wardrobe, the coat hangers still. She wasn't there. He strode over the breadth of the room and flung open the bathroom door. She'd used the shower, then, but the room, too, was empty.

He was filled with anger so strong he didn't think he'd be able to sustain it, and he marched from the room, swinging the door shut behind him. What if she'd gone and killed herself by repeatedly trying to get through the doors? What if she'd escaped? What if she was waiting somewhere, invisible, ready to attack him? He checked each room in a frenzy of anger, his eyes ablaze with fury. And then he entered the kitchen, and she was standing at one of the counters, cheerily whistling as she cooked on the stove. His presence alarmed her and she jumped, displaying in that moment how afraid she really was of him. To his surprise, the smile didn't come to his lips as easily as he though it would. He didn't take pride in knowing that he'd startled her.

"I'd like to run a few tests on you, Parr."

"Why, can't get any of your henchmen to do it? Because I won't comply." His eyes flashed and he pressed a button the gadget on his arm, making her double over in the pain that was brought on by an electric shock that issued form the bracelet.

"I'll tell you again, since you're not used to _complying_." Syndrome sneered, furious that the girl had cheeked him, "I just want to run a few tests concerning your powers. Resistance tests, and maybe one blood test. It shouldn't hurt. I don't like to hurt people unnecessarily." She picked herself up and turned back to the stove, sliding a few eggs onto a plate.

"Fine, but I want to eat first."

"I'll grant you that." This single sentence once again reminded her of the power he had over her - she was his prisoner, and he had full control over all of her actions. Who knew what he would do to her if she disobeyed him again? She could see his patience wearing thin and she was worried about her actions now. Would he use them as an excuse to hurt her family? She quickly polished off the eggs, starving, and followed Syndrome down the long, white corridor that she'd grown accustomed to hate. It was too straight, too open, and she didn't like it.

There were so many questions that she wanted to ask him. Why are you keeping me here? Where are we? Where is everyone else? How did you survive? How are my parents? When are you going to let me go? Will you let me go? Why is my room so... nice? Why do you seem so different now? What made you return to get revenge on us all? Why did you take me, and not Jack-Jack or Dash?

"Can I have a football?" When he turned to look at her his face was a picture, and she was tempted to laugh, but she kept silent, wondering why that one question had burst out. He raised his hand and Violet flinched, thinking he was going to hit her. Instead, he punched a few keys on a keypad on the wall, then pressed his fingerprint to the scanner. The door automatically slid open and Violet looked at her feet. Why had she assumed he as going to hit her? _He tried to murder your family! _She told herself as she made to walk through the doorway, but her subconscious answered for her: _I don't like to hurt people unnecessarily, _he'd said. She was faintly aware of an arm preventing her from entering the room, and looked at him again.

"I need to take your bracelet off." Those eyes, boring into her, into her soul, the sparkle that she suspected they once held as a boy gone, were troubling, and she held out her wrist, trembling. He tilted her head up with one hand, towards the ceiling - so she could not see what he was doing to remove it, she supposed - then began to remove the bracelet when he was sure she wasn't looking. With the other hand he kept a hold of her elbow.

As soon as she felt the absence of the cold, smooth bracelet from her wrist, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and punched him in the face. A sharp 'crack' wasn't what she was expecting but she didn't let it deter her from becoming invisible, and as she was wearing her normal clothes she fled down the corridor, pulling them off as she went. She **hated**, _hated_, hated, doing this, but as she ran down the straight passage she felt a cold, numbing sensation hit her in the back, and she was flung immobile, against the wall. She looked up, dazed, and created a force-field just in time before Syndrome went to punch, strike, or grab her. It was weak, and as he punched the force-field, it faded and flickered before she couldn't hold it up any longer. The force-field fell just as she became visible again, and Syndrome's fist came towards her.

()()()()()()()()

He'd aimed for the force-field, but as soon as he'd touched it with his extended fist, his knuckles melted through it and struck Violet Parr square on the chin. He'd felt his heart jump at this; he'd struck a girl, with force, with everything he had - and she'd never believe that it was unintentional.

The first thing he'd done was reach for her hand - it was an act of kindness, something Buddy hadn't done in a long time, and it felt alien to him. She slapped his hand away, her other hand reaching for her face.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, looking at him beneath that shower of blonde hair - another lie she'd adapted to to protect herself from people like him. He looked down at the bracelet in his other hand and quickly clasped it to her wrist. She tried to pull away at the contact and he felt nauseated; how should he deal with a situation like this?

"Come with me. Please." she lay half against the wall, head down, her body bent in a crooked position. She didn't move, except for the occasional tremble that shook her body. Buddy sighed.

"I'll move you myself, if you don't. I want to help." It seemed to hurt his mouth to form these words, and still she didn't move. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up further. He noticed vaguely that his nose was bleeding and he stepped forward to pick her up. To his surprise, she didn't slap him away, or try to fight. She lay as submissive in his arms as she had on the floor, and for a moment he thought she'd fainted.

"I hate you. I hate your notions, your actions, your voice, what you stand for, I hate you as an individual, I hate your stupid red hair and your stupid smashed face that actually looks better now I punched it, I hate your drawling voice and your sarcastic comments - " He voice was weakening with every word and Buddy ignored her and tried to ignore the fact that she was missing half her clothes; true she'd only managed to take off her t-shirt but he'd never imagined that Incredigirl would wear a bra like _that_... He'd been expecting plain white cotton, or black to match her personality or hair, not the tiny red number that was exposed - not that he'd thought about her underwear before, he'd never done that, he'd just been expecting...

He shook his head, his face flushing as he entered his room. As soon as he entered it he remembered why he'd been there in the first place - to take a blood sample and monitor her powers. Well, it would have to wait. He lay her on a small couch - the only available space in the room apart from his bed, which he certainly _wasn't _going to put her on - and hurried to a small washbasin, where he retrieved a flannel. He doused it in cold compress and marched back to the couch, then, more tenderly than he'd ever been in years, he pressed it to her face where a bruise was already beginning to form.

You're getting too soft with the girl, Syndrome! He scolded himself for his actions, but didn't take the flannel from her face. It took him a while to realise that blood was dripping from his nose onto his suit, and then it took him even longer to realise that Violet was awake, looking up at him with violently brilliant purple eyes. Her stare was almost accustorary but there was something there, something different from when she had been on the floor, and as he stared at her, she showed him a little pink tongue that wet her lips, and as she opened her mouth he wondered what she was going to say.

Author's Note: Sorry to leave you on a cliffie, but I couldn't resist! Don't shoot Syndrome laser beam at me! Anyway, I'm sorry to say that I won't be able to add another chapter until in three days, as the romance that's blossoming between Buddy and Violet will take time, as the poor guy hasn't seen many people in a couple of looooong years! I like the pairing, I mean, it's so unlikely that these two would develop feelings for one another, but when you're cooped up in your dad's enemy's evil lair you start questioning them - which will incidentally happen in the next chapter! Violet has a couple of questions for Buddy, and he'll no doubt be providing the answers - at least for a few! And Violet's hair won't be blonde for long - that's an essential plot point in their blossoming romance! Please leave me some reviews, even if they're anonymous! They help me a lot and I'd appreciate some help here!


End file.
